Just for Tonight
by kathiann
Summary: I love Cho, I think he is adorable. There is not enough out there with him in it, so here's a story that is just my selfish wish for more of him. Keep in mind that I am the champion of odd parings when it comes to him.


**Authors Note:** I've been craving some Cho lately, and as there's not much of him out there, so I have to content myself with writing instead of reading. Will be a few parts long, but I'm not sure how many yet. This is starting out at the end of Scarlet Fever, the scene with the country club cougar. Thanks to Ebony 10 for being my beta.

**Disclaimer:** If they were mine, there would be more Choness in every episode.

Wow, I had to say he had some guts. Being so blatant with his attraction for one of the prettiest women around and asking that dime store floozy out for a date. I don't care how much money she has or how easy she's going to put out for him tonight. He still shouldn't have had her come to the office. He was flaunting. The look on his face when Jane pointed her out was smug arrogance.

To see the looks on the Van Pelt's and Lisbon's faces…well, let's just say that it's going to take a while for him to earn that part of respect for him back. Van Pelt is still sitting at her desk, reading over a file, making sure it's all in order before going home for the day. I'm not reading my file anymore. I'm watching her.

I'm not as good at it as Jane is. He could watch you all day and you wouldn't know it. I know she's a little taken aback by the way Rigsby acted tonight. So am I. Although, I have to say our conversation in the car the other day makes more sense now. Older women—definitely his thing, not mine. Thinking with his _other_ brain. Also his thing and not mine.

I have an idea now, a way to cheer her up. It had been a long week with a twisted killer and now the guy she liked had just gone on a date with a woman who could very well be a sugar mama. I stood up. It was now or never. Jane had just gotten up to bug Lisbon about something so if I was going to do this without an audience the time was now.

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I sat staring at the file in front of me. I held my pencil in my hand and turned the pages every once in awhile just to keep up appearances. I knew I could fool everyone—well, not Jane—into thinking that I didn't care about what Rigsby had done. I knew he liked me and he was rather attractive. He was well built and muscular. And that little cleft in his chin—I would love to be able to just…thoughts like that were going to get me nowhere.

It's not like he's the only person in the state of California who was attractive and well built. Even on the team he wasn't the only one. Jane was certainly attractive, but much too damaged for me to want to deal with. His eyes are haunted and I don't want to have to deal with that. I'll just let Lisbon have him. They are probably the only ones oblivious to the attraction they have for each other.

No, if I'm going to have to pick a person on the team, it would have to be Cho. He's just as well built, of not better, than Rigsby is. And he doesn't have the slight gut that Rigsby does from the constant eating. He's not as cocky either. I sit there thinking about Cho and weighing the pros and cons between him and Rigsby. I really need to get out more. This is getting to be ridiculous. I've been on the team for six months now and haven't been on a date since. It's really starting to get to me.

I turned another page in the file (have to keep up appearances after all) and keep thinking. I'm so engrossed in my thoughts about a serious face and arms that look like they could snap a tree in two that I jump when someone says my name.

"Cho, you scared me." I say, putting my hand over my heart in a futile attempt to slow the beating. I can feel the color rising to my cheeks. I'm afraid that he might be able to read my thoughts like Jane can, even though I know that he can't. "What can I help you with?"

"I was going to grab some dinner. Do you want some?" He asks me and, to my surprise, seems a little nervous about it. He's standing with his arms at his side and even with them relaxed, I can still see his bulging muscles under his shirt.

"What are you getting?" I ask him. If he's getting Mexican, maybe I'll be able to ask him to get it without cilantro. I can't stand the stuff. It tastes like dirty feet.

"I don't know. Why don't we go out to get something? Your choice, my treat." He said. His face doesn't reveal anything. It never does. I wonder if Jane is able to read him as easily as he seems to read the rest of us.

"Ok, that sounds like a good idea." Despite my desire _not_ to have Mexican earlier, I suddenly decide that it sounds good. Not restaurant Mexican, but taco shop Mexican. When I tell him this a ghost of a smile plays on his lips, but it never shows through. You never see Cho smile. We decide to go in separate cars. I lead the way, part of Cho's deal after all.

The whole way driving to my favorite taco shop (the one just down the street from my apartment, Albertos #4) I think about Rigsby and for some reason I feel a little guilty. I think about his well muscled arms and his strong face. And I realize that really, that's all there is to him, a nice looking body. There isn't much substance: all brawn, no brain. This realization startles me a little so after I park my jeep (still had the Iowa plates on it) I sit in the driver's seat for a few minutes thinking—about Cho and these feelings that just won't go away.


End file.
